Bottoms Up
I cautiously walked through the town of Falkreath, feeling apprehensive. It had been a few days since I had torn my master to pieces and escaped; I was worried that half the guards in Tamriel might be looking for me. “By the Nine, what if they ARE?” ''I wondered. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed, and started sobbing. Barely anyone looked my way, and those who did muttered scornful insults. I got up, and wiped the tears from my eyes, trying not to look like I just had a nervous breakdown. ''“C’mon, Turley.” I told myself. “Don’t act this way. It’s embarrassing.” ''My depression subsided, and I looked around for a tavern, which contained the one thing I needed to properly calm myself down: ale. I had never been a big fan of booze to begin with, but it slowly began to grow on me, as a drink to calm my nerves after my master’s… ''sessions. ''It slowly developed into an addiction; however I was able to control it. Pushing open the door of a tavern called The Bannered Mare, I walked inside, a spring in my step. I appraised the setting. Nearly every eye was on me, and the people that weren’t looking at me were passed out from too much ale. I shook with fear, my spring slowly rusting until I was hunched over, the only entity in the tavern less than three feet. I clambered up on a stool and sat down, feeling aloof. Everyone was still looking at me. My voice quivered, but I managed to squeak out: “Ale please, bartender.” He leaned over, giving me the evil eye. “We don’t serve your kind in here,” he said with a low, rumbling voice. Pointed straight at a sign on the wall, reading: “Absolutely no scales or tails.” I thought about fawning, but I quickly dismissed that idea. So I attempted persuasion. “Please? Just this once? I-I have money.” The bartender shrugged. “That depends. Let’s see what you got.” I dug around for the handful of Septims that I stole after the incident, and dumped them out on the counter. The bartender flicked through them. “Sixteen Septims? That meager amount wouldn’t be enough for argonian ale, and their ale tastes like donkey piss.” He said with contempt. I sighed, and got ready to leave the tavern. I swept my coins back into my bag, and turned to leave. But before I could hop off the stool, the bartender grabbed me by my neck. I gasped and choked for air, but the bartender just brought me up close to his face. I could smell the ale on his breath, and I grimaced. “Oh, you can’t leave just yet. You have scales, and you have a tail. You weren’t allowed in here in th’ first place. So I get to get rid of you; my way.” And without another word, he threw me through the window. I attempted a last minute prayer to Dexter, god of dexterity, to give me the ability to avoid cutting myself to ribbons. I failed, and the last thing I heard before I crashed through the window and got knocked out, was the beautiful, painful sound of broken glass tinkling. I slowly awoke to the calming sensation of past injuries mending themselves somehow. It felt good. Really, really good. I didn’t want to open my eyes, but when I did, I came face-to-face with an elf, which was moving her hands over my body while mumbling some incantation. Suddenly seeing this person so close to me, I did the only thing any logical person would do. I screamed. My screaming must have startled her, because she jumped back, shrieking in surprise. The soothing feeling went away, and my body immediately felt like it was broken in several places. The elf grabbed me by my snout, holding it closed. She then motioned for me to be quiet, before releasing me. I whimpered, a few tears rolling down my cheeks. The elf-girl finally spoke. “You took one hell of a nasty beating, but you’ll survive. You might have a few dozen bruises though.” She started mumbling again, but I interrupted her. ”Sorry, but who in Oblivion are you? And what are you doing to my body?” She spoke back sharply, sounding indignated. “Okay, listen. I normally don’t do this for strangers, but you were an exception. You had fourteen broken bones, dozens of lacerations, and you were bleeding out in some backwater village in the middle of nowhere. I’m using my time, and my mana to heal you, so it would be great if you didn’t interrupt me. It breaks the constant concentration needed for the healing process. Do you understand?” I looked at the ground, before nodding. She then started the healing process again, and I watched, fascinated. After a minute or two of pure silence, the last of my cuts were gone, and the elf stood up. “Alright, there you go, miss.” She started to walk away, but I called out to her. “Hey elf! Wait up!” She turned back to me. “What do you need?” She asked. I held up my pouch of gold. “I was wondering… Could you go and get me some ale from The Bannered Mare? I’m incredibly stressed out right now, and alcohol is the only thing I need to calm my nerves.” The elf scoffed. “The Bannered Mare? Wasn’t that the place that you were literally thrown out of? Here, follow me. I know of a better, cheaper place.” I walked with her up to The Cloud District, and I thought about her. ''“Who is she? What’s her name? Why is she so disarming?” She eventually led me to another tavern called The Drunken Huntsman. “Here you go.” She said. I tried to speak, but I was afraid of what might happen if I asked too much of her. She noticed my rapidly opening and closing mouth, and guessed the rest. “What is it, little one?” She said. I finally spoke, a slight shake in my voice. “Can… Can you get the ale for me? I’m afraid of what might happen if I go in.” She shrugged, before taking my pouch and walking in. I sat down, and leaned against the outside wall of The Drunken Huntsman. ''“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” ''I thought to myself. ''“Too much trust in someone I barely know is how I got captured and put into slavery. I told myself I would never do that again!” ''I buried my face in my hands, completely crestfallen, and almost started crying when I heard a pouch of coins land next to me. I looked up, and saw the elf staring down at me, holding two bottles of wine and smiling. She motioned for me to open the pouch. What I saw made me smile for the first time in many, many years. For inside the pouch, there were more than a hundred golden septims, all glittering in the sunlight. I dropped the pouch, before leaping up and grabbing the elf around the waist in a tight hug. She chuckled, and I released my grip. She handed me one of the wine bottles, and I uncorked it. Before I drank from it, I asked her why she gave me all that gold. “It’s because you didn’t have that many.” She said. “I had thousands of coins from my various adventures, so I could spare a hundred.” “Well, thank you for that.” I said. “By the way, what’s your name?” “Quetzira.” She replied. “Well Quetzira, my name is Turley, and it was very nice to meet you.” “Likewise, little one. Now drink up.” I chuckled, and pressed the wine bottle to my scaley lips, and tilted my head back, letting gravity pour the delicious wine down my throat. Bottoms up.